


Afraid

by claro



Series: What we could have been [10]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-12 13:36:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15996299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/claro/pseuds/claro
Summary: when these Holmes kids keep a secret.....they keep it good. angst and fluff. i apologise for nothing!





	Afraid

Despite unconditional offers from every university they applied to, and a dozen more institutions actively trying to enroll them, both Beatrice and Hamish had decided on UCL, a stones throw from Baker Street, Beatrice for Chemistry and Hamish for Politics, starting their studies one and two years ahead of their classmates respectively, and so at 18 (and married!) Bea was in her third year, as was 19 year old Hamish. Both of them considering postgraduate studies.

Their ages and somewhat insular friendship did not stop either of them being popular and it was a source of some awe between Sherlock and Mycroft how easily their eldest children made friends, the wide friendship circle they had and the active social lives they both enjoyed. But each day, without fail, Bea and Hamish would return to their basement flat at 221, with it's ancient floral wallpaper and noisy pipes and shut the door on anyone who wasn't 'Family.'

Family for them extending beyond their parents and siblings to include Mrs Hudson, their two nannies - Ingeberg and Nanna Blisset, the omnipotent Anthea (and her ever present phone), Molly Hooper, Tobi Gregson, their former school teacher and now tutor Mrs Riley, Bill's former housemates Brian and Cassie, Mrs Turner and her 'married ones' from next door, Angelo who always arrived with enough pasta and sausage to feed an army and Kovačić and his tiny but fierce mother who had made batch after batch of sardine and potato pierogis through all of Sherlock's pregnancies, Mr Chatterjee from Speedy's downstairs and Stanley who manned the penguin enclosure at the zoo and was the sole reason Bea and Hamish avoided the regular attempts to ban them from entry.

This family was something that the Holmes brothers still struggled to comprehend. Once upon a time Sherlock had uttered, and truly believed the words 'Alone is what protects me.' Then...then everything changed.

Bill had been a catalyst that made him realise that he didn't have to be alone. He'd encouraged his rebuilding of a relationship with both Mycroft and Sherrinford, he'd walked the floor with five babies of theirs and brought three of Mycroft and Lestrade's into the world too. He'd made Sherlock want to be a better person. He'd made him....happy.

And that had started on the day Hamish was born. It had started with easy insults traded during labour as the midwife did his job and Sherlock hurled abuse at him, and Bill complained about how his shift had finished hours ago and he was only there because the other staff were refusing to deal with Sherlock, and Sherlock panicked and begged him to stay. And then...then there was suddenly Hamish, and Bill handing him so, so gently to Sherlock, and watching him with an intense expression as Sherlock cradled his son for the first time. A few hours later he was back with coffee, proper coffee, not the hospital shite, and pastries from a bakery down the road, and he'd sat with Sherlock and eaten breakfast and....and had never really left after that.

Nineteen years and five (soon to be six) children and many years of persuasiveness and a marriage later and Bill was still there, still laughing at Sherlock's habits and still looking at him every day with that expression of complete wonder. When he wasn't shouting about toes in the fridge or swans in the bathroom.

Sherlock still put up a token resistance to family gatherings, like this one. Or 'team briefs' as the children had started to call them, but in truth he was always slightly overwhelmed by how many people he now had in his life to care about, and how they all actively seemed to want to make his family better.

These meetings were usually held at Mycroft and Lestrade's house, seated around the frankly ridiculous formal dining table where Beatrice, Hamish and Mycroft would spread out their notes to be discussed.

Every few weeks, without fail, Mrs Hudson would complain about the bins, and Angus and Manus would whine about why they had to share a room. Bill would bring the list he kept which was helpfully titled 'Stuff we don't put in the fridge' and Sherlock would pout and moan and be awkward for the whole afternoon, but secretly, inside, he felt warm and secure and LOVED.

THIS was his life. His FAMILY.

Sometimes he would catch Mycroft's eye during one these meetings and the brothers would share a knowing nod. The noisy, chaotic, shouty, energetic and laughter filled room was an entire universe away from the silent and oppressive gatherings of their own childhood. In those moments, when Uncle Rudy was showing off his new Jimmy Choos to Anthea and Dick was getting racing tips from Mrs Hudson while Angus and Manus taught Sherrinford to sign swear words, Sherlock would pause and need to take a breath as he realised that this was the life he had built for himself. That he was not the lonely boy he had been all those years ago. That boy who was too smart, too strange, too odd to have friends, with distant parents and only his older brother looking out for him. In those moments, while Molly was describing a cadaver and Bill was refereeing an argument, Sherlock would look at Mycroft to ground him again. And without fail Mycroft's storm coloured eyes would meet his, as though he'd been looking out for the gesture, and the politician would nod, just once, his thin lips pulled into the slightest of smiles and Sherlock would relax, knowing that he was not alone.

But having such a large and active family, not to mention friends/staff and assorted others who all had to be factored into day to day planning, meant that there was somewhat of a logistics issue, something that Beatrice seemed determined to keep on top of.

She had set up shared calenders on everyone's phone and email which pinged reminders about parent teacher meetings, exams, football matches and what time the dogs were running at Romford (old habits and all that, and generally a nice afternoon out with Mrs Hudson and an inevitable win which would lead to ). Currently she had a large calender print out spread in the middle of the table, and one of her endless procession of notebooks open in front of her in which she periodically scribbled something in scratchy handwriting that only she could decipher.

Six months ago Bea had married Hamish, just the two of them and two strangers off the street as witnesses. Not for romantic reasons, but in order to gain access to their respective trust funds, which they were now employing fully and, if what Mycroft said was true (and it usually was) they were rather successfully increasing their joint wealth and expanding their property portfolio despite continuing to live in a damp basement flat. Bill, and particularly Lestrade, had not been happy at that announcement, but then, as Mycroft had quietly pointed out, there were worse things they could do than marry their best friend.

And so they rubbed along as a family. Some nights there would be eight children piled into the library at Mycroft's to watch a film, other times there would be impromptu sleepovers at C where Margot, Vivienne, Allegra and sometimes Manus would pile in beside Bea and wake Mrs Hudson with their giggling at 3am. Sometimes there would be a fire or small explosion in B, which strangely no one ever seemed to be present for. Sometimes, when one of them was worried or upset, be it Hamish negotiating the stairs from his flat to theirs, or 8 year old Allegra having a bad dream, there would be a knock and then rapid footsteps and child burrowing under the covers to sleep between their parents.

Those were the moments that really threw Sherlock. That this whole other person needed him beside them in order to feel safe. That his child sought him out for comfort...that was a responsibility he had never expected to feel in his life, and from the birth of Hamish 19 years before, it still shocked him every single time.

'So Potato has parents evening on the third, Mrs Riley is going to that with you, Bill, because she used to work with his teacher and she says she's not taking any....nonsense from her.' Bea coughed discreetly, 'Hamish is in Geneva on placement from Saturday, so his music lesson next week has been cancelled.' she looked down at her list, 'Snow Pea is at the orthodontist on Friday and I'm...I'm...' Bea swayed slightly, her expression suddenly grey. Hamish was on his feet and moving towards her even before she fell sideways.

There was a crack as she hit her head of the heavy wooden seat next to her, and then shouting and the scraping of chairs as everyone tried to get to her at once. But it was Hamish who crowded over her, using his arms to keep his siblings and cousins at bay. But Bill, the only trained medical personnel in the room pushed through and dropped to his knees beside his niece.

'She's just fainted,' he said, 'But she gave her head a nasty crack on the way down. That needs looked at. Someone get the car.'

As the others were shooed out of the room, Bill gently moved Bea into the recovery position and waited until she started to come around again.

'Don't move sweetheart,' he said softly as she opened her eyes and looked at him, 'You just fainted, but you banged your head, so I want you to stay still, alright?'

Bea just blinked very slowly and reached out to take hold of Hamish's hand.

'Come,' Mycroft's huge bodyguard and former interrogator Kovačić came into the room and easily lifted Beatrice into his massive arms, 'The car is at the front,' the Croatian said.

'Careful!' Hamish shouted as Kovačić shifted his hold on Bea.

'It's alright, 'Mish,' Bill soothed, 'Head wounds always look worse than they really are because they bleed a lot, she might not even need stitches. But it's best to get her checked since she fainted-'

'She's pregnant!'

#

Several things happened at once. First every person under the age of twenty in the room mysteriously disappeared, leaving Hamish to face his uncles-come-fathers-in-law and his own parents alone. Kovačić stood awkwardly at the door with a drowsy Bea in his arms.

'What?' Bill demanded, his voice low and hard.

Out of the corner of his eye Hamish saw Mycroft take hold of Greg's arm to hold him back, while Sherlock was still sitting where he had been, his expression unreadable.

'She's....um....pregnant. She's been getting dizzy and...'

'I am going to fucking KILL you!' Greg surged forward, his dark eyes flashing in anger and worry and it was only Mycroft trailing him back and Mrs Hudson standing in his way that stopped him swinging for Hamish.

'Why do you assume that it's Hamish who is responsible?' Sherlock asked the former policeman.

'He married her!'

'And she gets around a bit,' Sherlock pointed out, earning him glares from every other adult in the room, 'So does Hamish.'

There was a silence because no one could deny that Bea and Hamish were....'popular.' But Hamish balled his fists and glared at his parents and looked so like John Watson that Sherlock's chest tightened for a moment. Before Hamish could respond, Kovačić spoke.

'Can we leave now?'

His words, and the fact that he was holding their semi-conscious and bleeding daughter in his arms spurred Mycroft and Greg into action and they ushered him out of the room. Hamish instinctively made to follow them and was stopped by Bill.

'I don't think that's a good idea, mate.'

'I'm not your MATE,' Hamish snarled back.

'No, you're not. You're my son.'

'Bea is my WIFE!'

Bill Murray stared at him for a long moment and then nodded, 'So she is.'

And he stood aside to let Hamish follow Kovačić and Bea to the car, Greg close on their heels.

#

'Its not mine.'

Greg and Bill both looked up at Hamish when he spoke.

'You've never-?'

'Of course we have,' Hamish rolled his eyes, 'We're teenagers and it can get really boring of an evening. Even in central London..'

'Oh Jesus!' Bill sighed.

Beside him Greg looked murderous, 'She is not going back to that flat again! And you are to stay the fuck away from her!'

'But she's my wife and my responsibility.'

'Hamish that's not how it works, you aren't responsible for someone elses child.'

'Like you aren't responsible for me?'

Bill stood up then and reached towards his son, 'Don't ever think that. You ARE mine.'

Hamish tilted his head, 'I'm not though.'

'Family is more than biology,' Bill said quietly, 'Every single day I bring babies into the world through surrogacy, donor eggs, donor sperm, IVF...Mish...it doesn't matter HOW you get a child, all that matters is that they are yours. And you ARE mine, in every way that matters.'

Hamish looked across at Bill, the only person he had ever called Dad (Sherlock insisting that all his children call him by his name) and the only person he had ever thought of as his father, even knowing about John Watson.

'I know, Dad.'

Bill bent forward and pressed a kiss to the top of Hamish's head.

'Now, let's work out what we're gonna do to stop your uncle Greg from killing you in your sleep.'

#

It was just a one time thing with at a party. That's what Bea had told Hamish and she refused to answer any more questions about it.

Hamish, as her best friend and husband (ha!) had sat beside her as she took the test. He'd held her hand through several doctors appointments and a scan that Bea had worried about for weeks.

'Why? It's not yours.'

Hamish had just smiled and kissed her forehead, 'Of course it's mine.'

And that had been the end of that.

#

'How?'

Hamish blinked at his uncle Greg.

'We aren't....it's not like that. She's my best friend.'

'You married her.'

'For business. We're not...it's not like that.'

Greg glared at his nephew but he saw nothing except open honesty.

'Who was it?' he asked quietly.

'I don't know, she didn't tell me,' Hamish admitted.

'I want her back in Mayfair. She gonna need looked after and...why didn't she tell us?'

'She knew how sick you were with the twins and she knew you would worry, plus she didn't want Uncle Myc calling for an ambulance every time Bea so much as farted. She was going to wait another couple of weeks until the worst of the morning sickness and her exams was over and then tell everyone.'

Greg nodded and didn't say anything else. 

#

Bea was fine. She was let out two hours later with three paper stitches and a rather impressive bruise. As she walked into the waiting room to be confronted with her parents she took in their expressions and froze, before turning to Hamish.

'You TOLD them?' her voice was broken with the betrayal.

'I had to.'

'No you didn't!' Beatrice shouted, her fists balled and her pale face flushed with anger.

'Can we do this somewhere else?' Bill asked quietly, 'I have to work here. 

#

Bill, not being a complete idiot, knew to treat silence as suspicious.

Which is why he toed off his shoes before he crept through the dark flat.

‘Dad what the fuck are you doing?’

Bill blinked in the sudden light from the overhead light and tried not to squirm under the gaze of his eldest son.

‘Language!’ he said automatically.

‘Would you rather have in Greek?’

Bill had regained his wits and was shrugging off his coat, ‘Where is everyone?’

‘It’s Wednesday. Bingo. Sherlock’s on a case with Gregson, something about an elephant….Bea’s asleep and I just put Green Bean down.’

Bill sighed and dropped to the sofa, ‘You CAN’T call your brother Green Bean.’

‘And yet you called him Ptolemy. Legally. While you were sober.’ Hamish sat down and pulled a face which made Bill laugh, ‘Besides, you told us we couldn’t call Angus Potato and yet the invites to his parent and teacher nights are addressed to the parents of P Holmes-Murray.’

‘I choose to believe that’s a typo.’

‘Choose what you like.’ Hamish stuck out his tongue and then paused, ‘Dad?’

‘Please don’t ask me any deep meaningful questions, I can’t cope with them. I live with Sherlock.’

He opened one eye and smiled so Hamish would know he was joking, and then he opened his arms, waiting for Hamish to settle against him like he used to when he was young.

‘It’s the baby, isn’t it?’

Hamish nodded against his father’s chest.

‘You’re worried you won’t feel like it’s real father, right?’

‘No.’

‘No?’

‘I’m worried it won’t want me as a father.’

‘Oh Mish,’ Bill pulled his son closer, ‘I worry about that every day.’

‘What? But you’re-’

‘Terrified. Mostly. Most parents don’t have to worry about their toddler being smarter than they are. Try that times six. Or wait, let’s be honest, times nine, because frankly I’m at the stage when I can’t remember which children are mine and which are Greg’s.’ he gave Hamish a soft look and then sighed, ‘Do you know the moment I relalised you and Bea were gonna be forever?’

‘What? No..it’s not-’

‘Oh it is.’ Bill smiled and closed his eyes for a second, ‘You broke out of a holding cell at Scotland Yard and ran riot until Sally could bribe you with Kitkats. You even had a freedom song.’

‘I don’t see how that’s-’

‘You asked her to run, and she ran with you. When a Holmes offers you their hand, you don’t take it unless you’re in it for life.’ Bill said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, ‘You held out your hand and she was already reaching for it.’

In the silence that followed there was the softer than normal closing of the front door (the heavily pregnant Beatrice being both exhausted and a crack shot with a thrown trainer) a gentle ‘coo-eee’ and then the elephantine thunder of feet on stairs and the door flew open, Angus and Margot surveyed the scene and then the same footsteps went back down.

‘They’re having a moment!’ Margot shouted and Bill could almost feel Mrs Hudson tut. Beside him Hamish laughed and then fell suddenly silent.

‘Was it scary?’

‘Hamish take a look about you, now, tell me which part specifically I should be afraid of this week?’

‘When you…when ‘Lock had me. And you….when you stayed, was it-’

‘Mish…the first time I fell in love with Sherlock he was eight centimetres dilated and had just kicked me in the face……the second time I fell in love with him was when I handed you to him. I’ve seen a lot of births, but I had never seen anyone look at someone the way that he looked at you. And all I knew was that I would do anything to have that man look at me like that.’ he took a shuddering breath, ‘I knew, from the very first second that you came as a package. You…you weren’t my stepson. You were my son. Always. Because as much as I love your father, and I do, you are MY child….Mish…do you want this baby.’

‘Yes.’ There wasn’t even second of hesitation and Bill nodded.

‘It’s….always scary. At first I was scared because I had nothing to offer except myself, and I didn’t think that was enough, and then…’ Bill bit his lip again, ‘Your father gave me six children. And every time he has it’s broken my heart just a little more. He…that he would hand to me the most precious thing he could ever….you want to know if it was scary?’

Hamish nodded.

‘It was fucking terrifying.’

Hamish laughed and met Bill’s smile, and then instantly sobered as he saw how serious his father was.

‘The only time I was really afraid was before Ptolemy was born.’

Hamish nodded, ‘Down Syndrome.’

Bill nodded, ‘Hamish, every day I bring new people into the world. I control that. Sherlock.…Mycroft….between them they control the rest of the world. But none of us had any control. That was the first time none of us could do anything. And it was terrifying. We…we didn’t know how bad it was going to be. We didn’t know if he’d be able to go to school. Speak...was he going to need 24hour care for the rest of his life….we didn’t know. It was all completely out of our control. that’s the only time I have ever, truly been afraid.’ Bill turned to him then, running the back of a hand over his eyes, ‘I wasn’t afraid for him. I knew he’d be loved. I…I wasn’t worried about what would happen when Sherlock and I were gone. I’ve seen you, with Angus, and Sherrinford, and I knew that he’d be loved….’

‘So why were you afraid?’

Bill took a deep breath and sat up straighter, ‘Because I didn’t know what I could do to help him. I didn’t know until he was here. Once he was here, once I could assess…then I could help. But it was those months before…..I felt helpless.’

Hamish nodded and studied his hands for a long time, ‘Do…do you care?’

‘About what?’

‘That we….we’re not perfect?’

‘No.’

‘Granny said Ptolemy was defective.’

Bill hissed through his teeth and clenched his hand against the urge to punch the Holmes matriarch in the face.

‘To be fair she’s said that about all of you.’

Hamish was not the only one to hear the creak of floor boards outside the door and he shared a grin with the only man he had ever called Dad.

‘In Vivienne’s case she’s probably right.’

‘I am NOT defective!’ a voice shouted from the other side of the door.

‘And eavesdroppers never hear good.’

‘Creeping around and listening in is a bit…psycho.’

‘I’m not psychotic!’ Vivienne balled her fists, ‘I’ve been tested! I only have tendencies! Doctor Hanlon said so-’

‘Dr Hanlon has had two nervous breakdowns….’

‘Not helping Hamish!’

‘They weren’t both my fault!’

Bill dropped to his knees and took his pigtailed daughter gently by the face.

‘Vee? Are you gonna on a murderous rampage and kill us all?’

Vivienne blinked between her father and brother.

‘Not today.’

‘Alright,’ Bill carded a hand through his daughters hair, ‘Go play.’

‘Okay,’ Hamish said softly, ‘NOW I see why you’re scared.’


End file.
